


maybe tomorrow will be kinder

by wisetalemaker



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 23:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14175462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisetalemaker/pseuds/wisetalemaker
Summary: Allura's a great leader and a fantastic diplomat, but behind her mask lay insecurities about the mission and deep wounds from her past.





	maybe tomorrow will be kinder

**Author's Note:**

> I've always thought that Allura has one of the most tragic backstories, but I haven't seen many people discuss it, so I thought I'd write something like a character study? It's pretty short, tho.  
> This is my first time publishing my work. Constructive criticism is always appreciated! Enjoy <3

When Allura looks in the mirror, she sees many things, many faces of herself. More often than not, she sees a hypocrite; a person hiding before her own skin, a stranger. Sometimes, she sees a young girl and she’s screaming. Her hair is disheveled and her eyes are panicked, leaking pained tears, wetting the ground beneath her feet. The girl is begging for help, help her, because she can’t help herself. She’s too young and her innocence is weakness and she can’t help herself.

Allura’s blue eyes search for answers in the mirror sometimes. She stares at the markings on her cheeks and she knows it means she must do something great. There’s greatness within, she’s been told by her father once. He was smiling and his eyes were kind, as always. Allura’s face always softens when he is mentioned in any discussion; she misses him so much, like something is missing in her heart. She tries not to think about the fact that there’s no way she’ll ever feel his love and his arms around her ever again. Allura doesn’t allow herself to deal with her pain or her anger, because it's not like it makes a difference in the mission; she's fine as long as she can fight the tyranny. She doesn’t allow herself to think about Altea anymore either, because there’s no longer a reason to mourn; it has been dead for ten thousand years and the dust has already settled on the ground.

She’s been thrust into this war and she’s not sure she can win. The paladins are great, but Allura feels like she’s not quite there yet. Not a paladin. She still fights, though, because there are never enough forces fighting against the Empire. But the Empire is big and she feels overwhelmed even thinking about it. Every mistake they make, _she makes_ , every failure is felt by the whole universe and everytime it happens, Allura feels powerless, because if this happened once, it could happen again. It only makes her think more about the consequences of losing. She sometimes looks at the stars and feels like they are laughing at her efforts to change a fate that’s imposed. They whisper in her ear when she’s alone, mocking her achievements because Allura’s a hypocrite and her calm is a mask. Her diplomacy is fake and she’s terrified, she’s terrified of losing the fight for peace.

Late nights, she lays awake in her bed and her tears stain her pillow. She turns over and squints, trying to wipe her eyes but tears keep falling down her cheeks. These times are the moments when her façade breaks and she’s not strong anymore. She can’t always be strong, she’s a person, too, but there’s no way she’ll show vulnerability in front of her team. They must not know her struggles. Anxiety creeps up her throat everyday and she feels it in her stomach. It’s contained in every tear she sheds. Her mouth is sandy thinking about the next day and she wonders if it’s her last one. Allura clutches her blanket tighter and wills her mind to stop thinking, stop analyzing everything.

Allura only hopes Voltron will be able to go on without her if she dies.

The universe is more important than one person, after all. If one life can save a million other lives, Allura would happily give hers, and she is convinced the others would, as well.

Allura clearly remembers the day she fell out of the pod, the cold feeling of artificial sleep still slowing her limbs. The first thing out of her mouth was a call for her father and her eyes searched the room for his figure, but Alfor wasn’t there. Nothing was there, just the imminent threat of a new age of warfare. She felt her heart plummet into a dark abbys and she could still smell the destruction in the air from the attack on her planet, her blood boiling in her veins.

Her brain was fixated on the new information: Altea was gone. Her father was dead. They were the last Alteans alive.

_Altea was gone. Her father was dead. They were the last Alteans alive._

And just like that, the Princess was gone. The innocent girl was gone. She had died on Altea with her people and the new Allura was not going to stand and watch innocent races get eradicated because of fight for power. Allura was now a warrior, freshly opened wounds still burning her soul. 

So Allura took the role of the leader, not even letting herself grieve the loss of her people. If she failed then, she wouldn’t fail now. No emotions allowed, they would just make her mission harder. Allura brushed away the advances made by Lance and ignored Coran’s pieces of advice. There was no time for goofing off. The fate of the universe was now standing on her shoulders and she was breaking under its weight.

But for her father, she would do it.

For Altea, she would fight thousands of Galra soldiers and emerge victorious.

For the rest of the world, Allura was going to win a war she didn’t ask to be a part of.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is @wisetalemaker, come scream with me about voltron <3  
> also, thanks to @lifeistrash for beta-ing this <3


End file.
